


A Feast Fit for a Tailor

by GeekyGirlfriends



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anxiety, Claustrophobia, Depression, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Paranoia, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, basically all of Garak's fucked up mental issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyGirlfriends/pseuds/GeekyGirlfriends
Summary: After some urging from Odo, Garak re-examines his decision to stay silent about his feelings for Julian. He eventually decides to just go for it only to end up confessing his feelings in a round-about way after being stood up for their lunch date. If you like seeing all the inner-workings of Garak's mind then this is the fic for you. Slight references to Andrew Robinson's novel A Stitch in Time but not enough to spoil the book if you have yet to read it.





	1. Chapter 1

Garak waited in the replimat, quietly sipping his tea as he mentally counted _5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . ._

 

Odo silently took the seat opposite Garak. The tailor raised his mug away from his mouth, lifting it slightly toward Odo in a wordless greeting. “Punctual as always, constable. If you weren’t always so timely with _everyone_ people may begin to gossip about us.”

 

Odo studied the outstretched mug for a beat before shifting himself an identical one. “Would you prefer I arrive late so you might have enough time to come up with a better greeting?” Odo’s mouth pulled out at its sides to indicate the jovial nature of his remark. Elim nearly snorted. _Odo was certainly on point today._

 

“Hardly. I value how dependable you are. It’s a quality not found in many these days.” Garak took a bite of what he had replicated for breakfast -- a combination of Terran and Cardassian cuisines. Scones were terribly bland on their own and did not suit his pallet when garnished with butter as Julian had recommended. They tasted _much_ better with a smattering of yamok sauce and accompanying red leaf tea.

 

Odo sipped his “tea” before concluding, “Ah. He had to reschedule your lunch date again?”

 

“Obviously.” He took a sip of his own tea before meeting Odo’s knowing face. With a deal of ire to his tone, he elaborated, “It seems germ cultures are better at occupying his enhanced brain. He said that today he would make it ‘for sure’ but one can only hope.” Garak ate up the last of a scone. Julian Subatoi Bashir, also known as the most frustratingly oblivious man Garak had ever tried to court. Some days he entertained himself with the idea of “accidentally” giving Julian the wrong data rod -- the only question was what to plant on said rod. A declaration of love or “diary entry” were obvious choices. However, Elim rather liked to picture Julian’s shocked expression when he found he had been given some erotic manuscript Garak had concocted in his spare time. If anything the doctor would read it in its entirety to at least learn more about Cardassian physiology.

 

Elim was snapped out of his daydream by Odo plainly asking, “Why don’t you just tell him already?”

 

Garak stared at Odo for a few seconds. He blinked once, a conscious movement, and arched his eyebrow ridges. _Two could play this game._ “I could ask the same of you but with a different pronoun, of course.” He unassumingly sipped some more of his tea.

 

“Hmph. I was under the impression you wanted me to look elsewhere.” Perhaps Garak should not have brought up Kira. Odo’s face was just as stern as always but he could tell the constable was not as well equipped to handle this as he wanted Garak to think. The mug of tea Odo had shifted seemed to be melting slightly of its own accord. Garak felt sorry for Odo and sympathized greatly with him but, for that reason, Odo should have known exactly why he could not “just tell Julian already.”

 

“I do. You’re a perfectly charming and sweet man who has a lot of love to give. Why waste so much time in misery just waiting for _her_ to come to you? I understand the deep attachment you feel for your first love but there are other people out there who you would love just as strongly if not stronger. You just need to give them a chance. Contrary to classical Terran music, people do not love only once in their lives. I’m sure your friend Ambassador Troi would tell you the same given the number of partners she’s had over the years.” Elim munched on another scone while he waited for Odo to take the bait laid out before him.

 

Odo took the bait. “Hmphh. Are you going to suggest I become romantically involved with Lwaxana now?” Odo’s face slumped down into a rather heavy-handed scowl that did not quite match his tone.

 

“No, but I feel you should have given her more of a chance. I’ll grant she was a bit overdramatic but she did love you. And, from what you’ve told me, it seems she understood and accepted you more readily than any other ‘solid’ you’ve ever met. If anything you would have been good for each other. She could help you lighten up a bit and you would keep her grounded.” Garak sipped his tea. They had been on this tangent for a while now. Garak knew Odo would try to loop back to Dr. Bashir sooner rather than later.

 

“And, Dr. Bashir would be good for you. At the very least, he’d help me keep an eye on you. And, you never answered my original question.” The last sentence was gruff even by Odo’s raspy standards. He was emphasizing Garak should probably give him an answer rather than totally evading the question.

 

“As you know, that was my intent _._ But, if you _must_ get some answer out of me,” he sighed, heart heavy with the following words, “there are many reasons I’ve yet to tell him. The paramount one is the same one you have for avoiding this subject with Kira. I don’t want to be rejected, Odo. I have it worse here than you do. Most of the station likes you. They hate me. I’m not to be trusted and I can’t blame them for thinking that way.” _I scarcely trust myself._ He stared into the bottom of his mug, faintly remembering there was some Terran custom of reading one’s fortune in tea leaves. _How quaint._ “It does me no favors to be a middle-aged and overweight man trying to court someone so young and vivacious he thought turning 30 was the equivalent of already having one foot in the grave.” Garak downed the dregs of his tea. _There was probably a bad fortune in the leaves anyway._

 

He felt an entirely smooth palm cover the back of his hand. Garak stared up at the owner of this hand. “Tell him anyway. If he rejects you I’ll have lunch with you.”

 

Garak was treading on unstable ground. Should he have let on at all about his affections and worries? He had not told Odo the worst of it but had revealed enough of himself to warrant paranoia. _Could anyone have overheard our conversation? Is there any surveillance equipment around here? If so who is the owner of such equipment? Look into it later, Elim._ With worries crowding into the back of his mind he only had enough wit to point out, “I don’t think I’m quite your type, constable."

 

“You aren’t. I’m sure he’ll return your feelings.” Odo took back his oddly smooth hand and placed it on the side of the mug he had shifted. Odo lowered his voice to point out, "He’s an outcast among the humans. Technically he isn’t even entirely human. He’s the product of his father’s judgment and manipulation.”

 

_Just like you, Elim._ It was an evident enough point. A very solid point at that. Julian and Garak were more alike than different when it really came down to it. This washed over Garak as he stared at his empty mug and plate. “I think I should be going soon to open my shop.” He stood and pushed his chair in under the table.

 

“Of course. I’ll see you the same time tomorrow. I hope to hear how things go at the ‘shop’ then.”

 

He almost laughed at that. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll know exactly how everything goes without my breathing a word of it to your face.” Garak inclined his head. “Good day, Odo.”

 

“Good luck, Garak.”

 

“Quite.” And he left. That was more than enough exposure for one day. 


	2. Chapter 2

As the station's chronometer crept closer to the appointed time he and Julian had always had their lunch dates at, Garak could not help but feel a particular sense of dread. It might seem silly that a hardened former Obsidian Order operative would be worried about saying he loved a certain young doctor, but Garak’s life had gone quite a ways downhill post-exile. He had developed a handful of more nagging neuroses since being left on this station to rot. It was one thing when he woke up from nightmares of the station collapsing around him or the environmental controls malfunctioning and suffocating him to death. It was another thing entirely to be so lonely and utterly miserable that he had to activate a neural anti-torture device just to get by from day to day.

 

Suffice to say, though Garak had been perfectly capable of stomaching long bouts of isolation and had once had the mental fortitude to combat boundless despair, he was now the holder of a much less stable mind. _I was never entirely sane anyway. Not since Tain decided being locked in a closet was the best form of punishment for his son. Not since my first interrogation. Not since this exile._ There had been times where he felt quite calm in life, times where life had seemed quite worthwhile. Everything had just gone to shit since he had been outcast.

 

 _I have too much time alone. I meditate too much on the past._ How could one not think of the past when left with nothing to look forward to? How could one not feel worthless when confronted with a lifetime of hard work stalled by destitution? How could one feel any self-worth when, after a lifetime of training, the only accolades he may receive were petty compliments for his sewing fabric scrap A to fabric scrap B. The saddest part _was_ that Garak was a very good tailor. At times it did slake a creative desire and did help him focus his mind but, at the end of the day, he had wasted his whole life and all his ambition to become this -- a lowly tailor.

 

When Garak arrived on Terok Nor he had resigned himself to a life of self-discipline and denial. Sentiment is the greatest weakness of them all and it is what had landed Garak here in the first place. But, Garak’s mentality had quickly changed after the station was put in Federation hands. _I was alone. Adrift in a sea of optimists wearing tacky uniforms. I needed to make connections to survive._ And he had. He had scoped out the newest inhabitants of the station from afar. Julian Bashir had not been high on his list to begin with. Information in Starfleet databases made Julian seem far too willful and intellectual for Garak to twist his arm if need be. And yet, Garak had been drawn to the man. Perhaps it was his good looks or even his youth. Perhaps it was that Julian was so skinny and pretty he had been unconsciously reminded of his long-time colleague Pythas Lok. Or perhaps it had just been that Julian seemed more inept than he had first thought -- battling a potted plant for the airspace at a table would make _anyone_ look rather ineffectual. However his unconscious had rationalized it at the time, he had ended up going over to the soon dumbstruck young doctor and his fate had been sealed.

 

Since that day, Elim had been at odds with himself. He could be cold and self-effacing. He could deny himself the emotional yearnings that had exiled him in the first place. Or, he could give into temptation. _What more do you have to lose, Elim? Tain is dead. The Order has fallen. You’re alone and no one is watching._

 

That was another reason he had yet to tell Julian of his feelings. He had been sure Tain was monitoring him. And then his intuition had been confirmed by an assassination attempt set out by Tain himself. Not to mention that, during his incident with the wire, his father had known Julian was coming. He had known his son was dying. He had known details as slight as Julian’s favorite tea and how he liked it “extra sweet.” He had obviously been watching. Elim had all but prayed his father was watching to see signs of repentance and that Tain did want to bring his son home eventually. Was it any surprise when Garak ran into those abusive and manipulative arms when given half a promise he would be forgiven and brought back to Cardassia?

 

Even after Tain’s supposed death to the Dominion, Garak could not let his guard down. One could never be sure of a death unless they saw it with their own two eyes. And he was right. The monster had lived. _In my entire lifetime of being eclipsed by my father, I was able to achieve only a modicum of closure and the slightest bit of absolution. There’s something to be said for getting him to tell the truth at all, let alone speak of the only good day we had and admit he was proud of me. It wasn’t enough, though._ He had gotten what he could. He had paid the price for carrying the blood of a devil and spilling blood in supplication to said devil. There was no reason to fear Tain’s shadow any longer. _There’s no reason to shun your true compass anymore, Elim. You can’t impress a dead man. You have to make your own way back to Cardassia now._

 

He had to do what he felt was right. He had to tell Julian and everything else in life could be damned. He was going to live for himself. He was _not_ about to waste any more of his life suffering in the shadows of the universe and waiting in the wings for a cue that would never come. _I’ll tell him. I’ll do it today._

 

. . .

 

At the appointed time Garak had closed his shop and strolled down the promenade to the replimat. Doctor Bashir was nowhere to be seen but, Garak was a bit early to their lunch date. With any luck, Julian would be right on time. _He isn’t usually early, anyway. He’ll just be a few more minutes, Elim. No need to fret yet._

 

Garak stood in line, got his food, looked around for a more secluded table, and sat down. He looked at the time on a PADD he had brought with him. _He’s five minutes and twenty-two seconds late. Maybe he got tied up fixing a scrapped knee. He’ll be here soon. Stay calm, Elim. It’s okay._ Garak steadied himself with a few deep breaths and began to eat. He hardly had an appetite but decided he may as well eat the food anyway to make his presence look natural. He held his PADD in one hand and a fork in the other, trying to look preoccupied by flicking through tuxedo designs on his PADD. _Don’t let them see how much of a friendless loser you really are. Don’t let them see you squirm. You’re doing just fine. He’ll be here soon. He said he would._

 

But one could really only hope. One could really only hope the man he loved would not stand him up yet again. One could only hope and mentally reassure himself and try to eat and look natural as he counted the minutes and felt eyes burn into him from all angles. _They all hate you, Elim. Julian hates you too and that’s why he stood you up. He’s never going to have lunch with you again. You’re sorry disgrace of a Cardassian. It’s a wonder Tain never killed you. It’s what you deserve._ When Julian was officially forty-five minutes late for their lunch date Garak had had enough of the self-loathing his brain perpetuated. He stood up, tossed his plate into the recycler and went back to his shop.

 

His heart pounded in his chest and he felt wholly on edge and disoriented by this entire ordeal. He was also beginning to feel quite paranoid about all those walking past him on the promenade. By the time he got back to his shop he had to quickly open the door and then close it so he could have at least a few minutes to try and regain any kind of purchase on the sanity that kept slipping out from under him, leaving him to fall into the abyss. _I need a drink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pythas Lok is from A Stitch in Time. 
> 
> "He was short and slender, and his dark eyes and long lashes made him look younger than the rest of us [Garak's classmates]. He was almost too delicate for a Cardassian." 
> 
> You can see how he and Julian share a slight resemblance.


	3. Chapter 3

After about three hours with a couple bottles of kanar and a few yards of caramel colored silk Garak was feeling much better and had constructed an entire three-piece suit. It was the exact size for the exact person who he knew would look lovely in such a richly colored outfit. He tucked it away in a bag and decided to close his shop early that day. _Today has been canceled due to lack of mental fortitude and the fact I’m heading towards drunk off my ass._

 

After closing up he strolled back to his quarters. When he got there he hung the suit up on some hangers and admired his work. “You’re not half-bad when you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown. Maybe there is something to be said for the ‘tortured artist’ argument.” The suit needed a shirt and Garak had just the right thing. He took the suit into his bedroom and laid it out on the bed. He rummaged through his closet and pulled out several other items of clothing that were ­ _much_ too small and for him.

 

The garments were a mix of shirts, pants, a couple hats, and even a bowtie. Realistically, what Garak had made in his spare time could constitute an entire wardrobe for Julian. He held up a mint green button-down shirt against the suit. “No, wrong kind of combination. More garish than anything else.” He picked up a purple shirt of a similar nature but immediately dismissed it, “No, wrong neckline for this.” He set aside the purple shirt, pulled out a dark blue shirt, and then put it up against the suit. “It goes well but it would work better as an accent. Hmmm . . .” He went back into his closet and pulled out an eggshell colored button down shirt and put it against the suit. “Good, and now . . .” He pulled the bowtie out from among the other clothes and placed it down between the suit and shirt. It was made of a midnight blue fabric that had an almost ethereal or iridescent quality to it. It had been expensive fabric but worth it and the scraps he had left over made the most eye-catching bow tie.

 

Garak hung up the suit, shirt, and bowtie on a nearby shelf and admired his combination. He pictured how good they would look on their intended recipient and he frankly wanted to melt into the ground at the image. And yet, he sighed heavily. “I doubt he’ll ever wear them. Or want to talk to me. Or ever want to see me again at all.” He began to pace as he continued to spiral inward with, “Was I too forward? Did he actually catch on and this is his awkwardly messy human way of removing himself from the situation? I doubt he’s straight. But even if he isn’t that doesn’t mean he’d like you. Look at yourself, Elim. You’re pacing and obsessing and talking to yourself. You’re old and getting fat like Tain. Maybe Julian saw what Tain looked like and decided he didn’t want what you may become? Or maybe he was scared off by the fact you let him watch as Tain died? No, I highly doubt that. He wasn’t scared off by my madness from the wire so it would make no sense that seeing my father die would frighten him off. Not to mention,” he stopped pacing for a moment to look directly into one of the bugs Odo had put in his room, “as Odo so aptly pointed out, Julian clearly understands how complex a father-son relationship may be.”

 

He kept pacing. He started to grow scared the walls were getting closer and closer to him so he stopped, sat down on his bed, and tried to steady himself with some shaky breaths. “Elim, calm down. You’ve gotten yourself worked up over absolutely nothing. Julian most likely had a medical emergency. You shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, Elim. The walls aren’t closing in on you. Julian most likely doesn’t hate you. Even if he did well then . . .” He looked up at the ceiling panels of his bedroom, his train of rationality stalled out on the tracks. _Where’s the point in going on if he does hate you? You must be pretty far gone to alienate the one man who forgave you when no others did._

 

“But I have Cardassia to look forward to,” he countered his own thought. “I can look forward to seeing the sun rise bright red over the deserts around the city, I can look forward to the open expanses unlike this claustrophobic tin can, and-and I can look forward to seeing . . . _Mila._ ” The name caught in his throat and prevented any further speech. He closed his eyes and felt his neck strain with tension preventing his jaw from letting forth a scream toward the ceiling. However, when he finally pried open his lips he was only able to let out a pitiful and low howl of despair through gritted teeth. _It’s been so long since I’ve seen mother. She’s probably in bad health by now. She’s younger than Tain but she’ll die eventually. And what if I can’t be there for her? What if she’s alone when she goes?_

 

He repeated the howl again and tears came to his eyes. He crumpled back onto his bed and turned his face down into the pillows, wanting to have an iota of dignity even in the face of Odo’s surveillance. “How-How ironic. I absolve the monster but not my mother.” _She’s no saint either but she was better than Tain. I love her. She was a proper mother. She deserves a better son. You’re not good enough for her. Maybe Tain should have just killed you right after you were born. Maybe the next child would have been better and stronger and less neurotic than you, Elim._ He wanted to scream for the voice in his head to shut up but he had lost his words to the choked gasps of his sobs. He did not know how long he spent weeping but eventually merciful sleep put his mind to rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Several hours later he found himself being awoken by two fingers pressed to his neck, [right along where a ridge met his jaw](http://former-cardassian-oppressor.tumblr.com/post/151994144372/lets-take-some-things-into-account-here-julian). He was conscious at the instant he felt the _very warm_ hand meet his skin but he decided it would be best to pretend to be asleep a while longer. Perhaps the intruder would begin to talk and he would be given an idea of what this human wanted.

 

The home invader murmured to himself, “Hmmm, his pulse is a bit sluggish. Hopefully it’s just due to the temperature and not . . .” _What? Is that really Julian’s voice? Am I dreaming?_ He felt the back of Julian’s hand on his forehead, directly above an eyebrow ridge. “He does feel a bit cold. Even though he reeks of Kanar it seems he’s not suffering from any kind of alcohol poisoning,” he whispered just as softly as before, obviously not wanting to wake Garak. _I must be dreaming. This is too similar to when the wire malfunctioned. This is all a construct of my own brain._ Julian smoothed back his hair and gently asked, “What am I ever going to do with you, Elim?”

 

 _If this is a dream I might as well play out a fantasy._ Without opening his eyes Garak pointed out, “There _are_ several Terran fairy tales featuring protagonists awaked with a kiss.” He felt the hand on his head retract and weight of Julian sitting beside him shift. For the briefest of moments he felt a bolt of pure panic shoot through him, fearing Julian had been offended and was pulling away from him for good. But, a heartbeat later he felt a very human warmth much closer to his face.

 

Julian whispered into his ear, “And thus, the handsome prince was to be awoken by true love’s first kiss.” Warm, full, lips pressed tenderly against his own. _Dear God this is really happening isn’t it?_ Elim’s eyes flew open to look at the man kissing him. A very haggard Julian Bashir stared back down at him. He slowly pulled away from the kiss, face still very close but appearing slightly unsure of his actions. Garak took in Julian’s slightly mussed hair and singed uniform collar.

 

It would have made the most sense for Garak to infuse some degree of wit to the situation -- to make some cutting remark about if Julian was arrogant enough to think himself prince charming. But he did not care enough about wit in that moment. “What happened?”

 

“I could ask the same of you. Get out of bed and we can talk about it over dinner. It’s the least I could do after missing lunch with you.” There was a definite note of weariness to Julian’s voice but he did seem eager to have dinner with Garak.

 

“I can certainly agree to that.”

 

. . .

 

They moved into Garak’s main living quarters. Julian leaned against the replicator and asked, “So what would sleeping beauty like for dinner?”

 

Garak projected his voice so the replicator would register it. “Hot sem’hal stew and a tall glass of rokassa juice.” _With any luck, the juice would sooth your nerves enough to get through this farce you’ve made of your life, plain simple Garak._ The requested food materialized and Julian set it down in front of Garak. Before his love could walk back to the replicator Elim lightly grabbed ahold of Julian’s wrist to point out, “I doubt one could really dub me ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ I’m hardly a fair maiden.”

 

“But you were sleeping before and you are beautiful.” Julian grabbed Garak’s hand and squeezed it before going back up to the replicator. _What has brought about this change in Julian? I wasn’t talking in my sleep, was I?_ Garak took a swig of his rokassa juice, hoping it would be enough to get him through this dinner. “Chicken curry and tarkalean tea extra sweet.” When the food materialized he carried it over to the table and sat down across from Garak. He met Garak’s eyes. “I suppose I should start with my day being as you asked first.”

 

“Go ahead, my dear doctor.” Garak ate a small spoonful of his stew as Julian began to regale him.

 

“As you know, the germ cultures I was incubating contained quite deadly pathogens from various planets. I was studying how they would all be affected by rapid temperature changes and how easily they mutate and adapt. That being said, the incubator I was using malfunctioned due to the rapid temperature changes and caught on fire. Of course, that was quickly doused by the station’s fire suppression system but there had been a breach in the incubator and I needed to be quarantined until it was clear I had not been contaminated.” He sighed, and his eyes seemed to possess more depth than before as he sincerely said, “I’m terribly sorry I missed our lunch again, Elim. If I could have contacted you I would have. They practically had me sealed up in a plastic bubble the entire day. They wouldn’t even let me have a PADD. When I was finally released from quarantine, I ran into Odo and he told me how upset you were about my missing our lunch.”

 

 _WHAT DID THAT SNEAKY CONNIVING CHANGELING SAY TO JULIAN?_ “Is that so?” he managed to get out in a calm enough tone.

 

“Yeah, he said you had been rather broken up about it because you had been meaning to tell me something. And, I’m going to venture to guess that’s why I found you asleep and smelling like the bottom of a bottle of Kanar . . . or maybe a few bottles.” Julian popped a forkful of chicken into his mouth and chewed it, waiting for a response.

 

 _Odo told him what I was going to say. I can see it on his face. Surely this is a good thing, right? If he knows the truth and chose to play into your whim and is here eating with you then surely this feeling is mutual, right? Wait and see. Don’t let on about anything. Just wait._ Garak ate another spoonful of his stew before answering. He argued and obscured semantics almost instinctively toward Julain’s jab about his drinking, “It was a bottle and a half and I was hardly that intoxicated. I managed to craft a very refined three piece suit while I was drinking. It was certainly nothing like the scene I made at Quark’s a couple years ago.”

 

After swallowing the food that had been in his mouth, Julian pointed his fork at Garak and retorted, “Well, you could have fooled me. I rang your door chime exactly five times before coming in here to make sure you weren’t dead or dying or in a coma from who knows what drug or piece of Obsidian Order technology. I don’t know why you can’t just _tell_ me. I don’t know why you can’t just come to me outright. We’ve known each other for five years and you hardly ever let me in. Five years of lunches and debating literature. Five years of you only letting me see the tip of the iceberg. Five years of you criticizing my fashion sense and then apparently constructing clothes for me in secret whenever you’re in a bad enough way that you end up drinking and crying yourself to sleep. Don’t give me that look, of course I knew you were crying. Your pillow was wet and Cardassians don’t drool.” Once his tirade was over he stared at Garak, impatient to hear something other than obfuscation, evasion, and flat out lies.

 

Garak just stared back at him. Frozen in fear for a few beats. _What do you even say to that? Is he angry because you lied or just upset for being kept at arm’s length? Or is it both? Whatever the case he clearly doesn’t want to hear you spout yet more untruths, Elim._ So, not knowing what to say and unable to lie under penalty of Julian’s wrath, Garak merely said, “You’ve put me in a place where I’m rather at a loss for what to say. But, I suppose,” he closed his eyes to concentrate so he would not end up falling back into some string of reflexive lies and evasion. “I suppose I should start by explaining myself.”

 

Julian, much calmer than a few minutes ago, frankly told him, “That would probably be for the best, Elim.”

 

Garak sighed at the used of his first name. _Where had he gotten the notion to use that? It makes sense he should call me by my first name but I never told him to call me Elim._ Garak pushed his stew aside, apatite gone, and steepled his hands on the tabletop in front of him. _I suppose I should start with Cardassia, shouldn’t I?_ “There are a few things you already know about me that are true regardless of what version of reality I tell you. I love Cardassia. I was in the Order. Tain shadowed me throughout my life. I’ve been exiled to this station. I want to go back to Cardassia as soon as possible.” He noticed that he had started to tap his right foot on the ground as he felt anxiety sinking its roots into him at telling the truth. _Keep it together, Elim. This is the right thing to do. No one will lock you in a closet now. No one will kill you for giving away state secrets. The state is hardly functioning as it is._

 

“Over the course of our relationship I’ve also shown you quite a bit in lieu of being direct. Given how smart you are, I don’t need to explain much of what you’ve seen. Tain was my father. He exiled me here. The reason for such I care not to say right now.” His foot tapped at an even faster pace than before. _Keep it up and you’ll punch a hole through the floor and fall to your death._ “It’s a complicated story and something I’m ashamed of in retrospect. Suffice to say it involved putting my emotions and my wants above what was best for the state. I made you read _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ for a reason.”

 

He swallowed down dry air at what he was about to say next and then decided to at least take a swig of his rokassa juice. He set the glass back down. He met Julian’s eyes. “Do I love you? Yes, with every fiber of my being. Yes, a million times over. Yes, I want to be with you and hold you until the day I die given you’ll probably outlive me. But . . .” He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. His faced seemed to crumple inward at the next words. “But being with you doesn’t get me back to Cardassia. I believed the opposite to be true. Tain was watching us.” He opened his eyes to stare at the table. “He was watching _me_. I had hoped he was watching . . . that he was watching for some improvement in me. That he _wanted_ to take me home to Cardassia. How could a man be so cruel? To leave his only son cut off? To try and kill me? I know that running to him seems idiotic to you. I know because that’s how you would feel about running to your own father. But . . .” He bit his lower lip and stared up at the ceiling for a few beats. _Keep it together, Elim. Don’t you dare cry right now._

 

He felt Julian’s hand cover his own. “But it was the only way you thought you could ever come home. You didn’t want to let on that you loved me because it would delay your return. And that’s why you ran to him two different times and nearly lost your life both of them. Why you were willing to torture Odo for Tain. Living for your father is proper Cardassian form and living for yourself is the worst offense imaginable.”

 

Garak drew in some shaky breaths and just said, “Yes. You’re absolutely right and,” he sighed, “what’s worse is that I don’t want to go home just for my own pleasure.” He looked at Julian straight on. “Mother is there. She’s had too many scares and disappointments in this life. She was a good mother. A flawed but sweet and protective woman. She deserves for someone to be there for her. She doesn’t deserve to die _alone_.” _It’s frankly a miracle she could stomach Tain all those years and that he never killed her for some small offense._

 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to go back to Cardassia one day.”

 

“But will ‘one day’ be before the day she’s dead and buried?” He stared down at the overly warm and beautiful human hand covering his own.

 

“Garak, look at me.” He looked up. “Even if you don’t get to see her, she would know you tried. She knows how much she means to you, doesn’t she?” _He has a point._

 

He felt his entire being relax ever so slightly and he conceded, “You’re right. You’re quite right.” He slumped back in his chair. _You’ve only been awake for about an hour and you’re already tired enough to go back to bed. You’re getting old, Elim._

 

“Garak, you’ve had a stressful day. Eat the rest of your stew and drink your juice. It will do you good. At the very least having food in you will make it easier to fend off nervousness.” Garak looked down and grimaced a bit at his stew. “[Do it for me?](http://former-cardassian-oppressor.tumblr.com/post/150996803557/i-needed-to-make-this-because-of-reasons-kind-of)”

 

 _Well then._ “All right, but only if you tell me something first.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“How do you feel about me? About everything? About all my horrid emotional baggage and the like?” _You’re getting better at laying all your cards out on the table, Elim. It’s a step in the right direction . . . hopefully._

 

Julian grinned and chuckled a bit. “My dear Garak, how do _I_ feel about you?” He met Garak’s inhumanly blue eyes and his smile widened. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years now. I don’t approve of many of the morally dubious things you’ve done in the past but neither of us can change the past. I forgive you for that and I accept you for who you are now. I’m more than ready to help you unpack some of that emotional baggage. I have a bit of my own anyway, as you know. But I’m sure we’ve unpacked quite enough of it for tonight.” He brought Garak’s hand up, closer to his face, and kissed the back of it.

 

“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, eat your stew before it gets even colder, sleeping beauty.” _Fair enough, Prince Charming._


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning Elim awoke to the usual alarm. A few short beeps and then the computer commanding him, “It is now 0700 hours. Get up and go make a suit or die trying.” He always had to laugh a little at the mechanical voice saying such a melodramatic line. _Laughter is the best way to the face the world first thing in the morning._

 

He languidly propped himself up on one elbow and instructed, “Computer dismiss alarm until tomorrow.” There was a short beep and Elim nodded to himself. He more properly sat up in bed and took in the room around him. The lights had automatically come on with his alarm. The room looked mostly untouched, the pile of clothes that were all Julian’s size still laid on the foot of his bed and he was still wearing the clothes he had put on the morning before. _Can it be that it was all merely a dream? That it really was wishful thinking I could have the courage to lay my heart on the table before him? Am I really so desperate and cowardly I can only have the one I love in my dreams?_

 

Garak scanned the room again for any tangible changes and _that_ is when he noticed a rather major change. “The suit I made . . .” He stood up and looked around the shelf where he had originally hung the suit with its matching shirt and bowtie. A bright smile started to steal onto his face at the thought of what had happened. “He took the suit with him,” he stated simply enough. _He took the suit I made for him. I couldn’t have imagined it all._

 

He felt so gratified by this small sign that his smile stayed with him as he went on to take a shower, change into some decent clothes, and then head out to get a bite to eat with Odo. But, just as he was about to leave his quarters, he saw a small piece of paper on the table. _Quite a curious creature you are, Julian. An archaically romantic gesture if I ever saw one._ He picked up the paper and examined the long sliding script that read:

 

>  
> 
> Dear Elim,
> 
> I can’t express how glad I am that you finally told me the truth. I only regret that such a talk couldn’t have happened under better circumstances. So, I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner again tonight. Do my quarters at 2000 hours sound good to you? I promise not to wear anything you’d disapprove of.
> 
> I hope you have a lovely day and that you don’t spare Odo any details when you meet him for breakfast. He does seem rather invested in us . . . I hope you were just joking when you said he had bugged your quarters. And, if you weren’t joking, I hope he’s yet to bug my quarters. Regardless, I love you with all of my being and look forward to seeing you again.
> 
> Your Dearest (Doctor),
> 
>                      Julian Bashir

 

 _He is absolutely the cutest and sweetest man I have ever had the honor to be with. I’ll have to ask Odo to never bug your quarters, Julian._ He folded up the note and tucked it away in an inner pocket of his tunic. _What better place to keep it than close to my heart?_ And then he went off to his morning meal with Odo.

 

. . .

 

He ended up being a few minutes late to breakfast. Garak nodded at Odo from across the replimat and quickly grabbed a cup of tea before heading over to their usual table. “Good morning, constable. I hope you won’t resent me for being a little late.” Garak sat down and took a sip of his tea, today it was lapsang souchong tea, one of the very few Earth verities he found agreeable.

 

“I don’t resent your tardiness at all. Did things with the doctor go well?” He took a sip of what looked to be raktajino. _Oh, you know quite well how things went._

 

He kept his eyes focused on his cup of tea as he explained, “In a way no and in a more prominent way yes. I know I don’t have to tell you every single detail given that you’ve set up surveillance equipment throughout my quarters. As well, you already know why Julian missed our lunch and sent him my way.” He briefly shot Odo a knowing look somewhere between a death glare and the acknowledgment of a wry joke before looking back down at his tea. “Though, I must admit that now things are rightly underway I feel quite spectacular.” _Tell him next about how Julian’s warm touch reminds you of sunshine. It’ll complete the childish “senselessly in love” look for you._ Garak took another sip of his tea, savoring the pungent flavor of it.

 

“We’ve known each other a long time, Garak. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you wear a smile so proudly on your face. I’m happy for the both of you and don’t regret my choices in aiding you.” What seemed to be a rather arch expression rippled over Odo’s face quite quickly before he settled on a warm smile.

 

“Thank you. And, much of this may not have occurred had you not precipitated some events. So, I have to thank you for that as well in spite of you having violated my trust.” He took another long sip of his tea.

 

“You’re more than welcome.”

 

“Constable, would it be too much to ask a small favor or two of you?” He almost wanted to arch his eyebrow ridges suggestively but he kept them where they were in the end. _A bit too camp for right now._

 

“It depends. What do these ‘small favors’ entail?” Odo had scrunched up his face in an incredulous stare. It was a bit ham-fisted in comparison to his tone. _I wonder if he likes to try out new expressions on me._

 

“You’ve yet to bug Julian’s quarters?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Please refrain from bugging them in the foreseeable future. I’ll explain why if you want but I’m quite sure you can guess why he and I would like a bit of privacy together. At least, he would. I’m used to always being watched.” He sipped his tea as if this was the most natural conversation they could be having.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. What’s the other favor you wanted to ask of me?” He took a long swig of his “raktajino.”

 

“The recording you have from my quarters last night . . .” he stared into his tea, looking as if he were appraising the tea leaves. He looked up at Odo and commanded, “Delete it.” _You’re pushing the envelope a bit here, Elim._

 

Odo gave him the same sort of ham-fisted glance of incredulity as he had before. “Why? It’s not like you and the good doctor engaged in activities he wouldn’t want anyone else to see.”

 

“Yes, but I did say quite a bit I hardly wanted to admit to Julian at all let alone you and,” he lowered his voice before continuing, “certainly not to anyone who has the ability to hack into the station’s files. It’s not actually that hard, Odo. I could do it with my eyes closed, frankly.”

 

Odo thought for a moment. “I’ll make a deal with you, Garak. Tell me how to make the station’s computer more secure and I’ll delete the recording.” _Cutting a deal? Quark must be rubbing off on him._

 

“Fair enough. I’ll bring a PADD with the pertinent information by your office later today.” Garak drank down the last of his tea and then rose. “Until then, I must go tend to my shop. Good day.” He inclined his head.

 

“A good day to you as well.” Odo raised his “mug” in fair well and Garak turned to leave. _That was easier than you thought it would be. Good job._


	6. Chapter 6

At exactly one minute before 2000 hours, Garak rang the door chime to Julian’s quarters. He had a suitcase in tow and had gotten into one of his very best outfits for the soul purpose of seeing his Prince Charming. He wore black pants and a tunic that was a deep blue color with black and white accents and a rather salacious neckline. These days the station was always a bit too cold for such revealing outfits but Garak could not care a lick about practicality given the special occasion at hand. Garak self-consciously smoothed back his hair one last time before the door opened. _Oh my stars, he’s stunning._

 

Julian appeared in the doorway before him wearing the suit he had crafted the night before. The caramel fabric beautifully complimented his skin tone and the bowtie was a lovely contrast as well as focal point within the outfit. Not to mention the entire ensemble was _exactly_ the right size. Nothing was too loose or too tight. He could tell just by how Julian held himself. _Sometimes it pays to be such a good tailor. I could just devour him where he stands._

 

“Well, are you going to come in or are you going to stand there gawking at me?” _PAY ATTENTION, ELIM._

 

He laughed it off. “You’re quite right. I should come in so I can really _admire_ my handiwork.” Julian shot him a sly grin and then stepped aside. Garak walked past him, careful not to catch his suitcase on the doorjamb.

 

When the door closed behind him Julian gestured at his suitcase, a slightly wary look about him. “I hope you don’t intend to move in. I’m flattered if that’s the case but I’d like to at least have sex with you first before delving into domestic matters.”

 

 _Okay, we’ll make love tonight, I’ll move in tomorrow, and the day after we'll adopt a child. Problem solved._ It was a hilarious thought but Garak would scarcely want to actually say such a thing to his new partner. “No need to worry, my dear. These aren’t my belongings but rather new belongings of your own.” He walked over to the couch, set the suitcase down, and opened it to show that within were all the clothes he had crafted for Julian over the years. The good doctor came over and examined the clothes, carefully sifting through the various garments. “I thought it was only fitting I finally let you have them given I finally told you the frank truth about how I felt.”

 

Julian said in an almost dumbfounded tone, “I . . . I didn’t know you had made so many. I saw them all in a pile last night but I hadn’t judged there to be this many.” He met Garak’s eyes. “You made all of these when you were in some kind of emotional distress?”

 

 _Be honest here._ “Most of them, yes. A few I just made on a whim. But, yes, many of them I made to cheer myself up or give me some kind of distraction that tied in a hope for the future. The hope I would be in this position to give them to you, that is.”

 

Julian put a hand to his chest. “Garak . . .” _What? Am I coming on too strongly now? Maybe I should evade. Or maybe misdirect? What about some cutting wit? Wait, no. That’s not right. Wait. Just,[wait for it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ReTP6x_sDiM), Elim. _ Julian put his hands on both of Garak’s arms, obviously conscious of how much exposed neckline there was, and not wanting to get into _that_ so early in the night. Those warm chocolatey eyes met Garak’s pristine blue pools of water. They were two soulful oases in a desert of grey scales toughened by an unforgiving life. “I kept you going. All these years, I helped your stay afloat more than I ever knew. I’m truly touched, Elim.”

 

Garak was nearly breathless at such an endearing response to one of his simple coping mechanisms. He set his hands on Julian’s waist, slowly warming up to the fact he could do such things now that this thing they had was agreed upon. _He feels so small and fragile under my hands. Though I suppose the most beautiful things in life tend to be the most delicate._ “My dearest Julian, you are the sunshine that has kept my heart warm and beating in this cold and desolate exile. I owe you my life more times over than I care to admit.”

 

A smile as warm as Cardassia’s sun bloomed on his love’s lips. “I could kiss you for saying such lovely things.” Julian’s face moved a little closer to his. “But then I wouldn’t get to see such a rare and sincere smile on your handsome face.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll still be there afterwards.” _You made a good choice, Elim. You’re doing the right thing. You’re doing what you most wanted to do. What was that line Julian pointed out to you?_ Garak’s face was only about two inches away from Julian’s as he almost unconsciously spoke the quote allowed, “[Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts](https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7126/7751453566_96a21167a7_b.jpg).” Their lips met in a passionate yet tender unison. Their bodies seemingly worked as one, moving together instinctively at the same time. Julian wrapped his long arms around Garak’s neck and Garak tightly wrapped his arms around Julian's waist.

 

He did not think it while this was happening, but when meditating on it later in life, Garak considered this to be one of the most perfect and pure moments in his entire existence. He had so very few memories untainted by later circumstances and so very few people he let see him without his shell of lies and deceit, entirely naked and vulnerable. Julian was the only one who never abused Garak exposing himself so. It was no wonder they spent the rest of their days together. Neither man was perfect, but they found a small spark of perfection within each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Garak says right before they kiss is from Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. When Julian gave it to him, Garak thought it was very funny but that the anti-war message was too thinly veiled and that Vonnegut was extremely Xenophobic in his portrayal of aliens. Julian tried to tell him it was written before first contact but Garak could not be swayed.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope everyone who read this fic enjoyed my very first foray into writing Garak/Bashir. :3


End file.
